drops to a branch,
the slow water. He’s
to a shape the eye
to match a name.
A shared path at the edge of Chelsea
Three cyclists pass. A grey heron
feeds. The stilts’ legs are drawn by a child.
I reach the pony club. One paddock
is a wetland. I have no tears. My pulse
is a function of my pace. Slowly the sun
warms the ground. I do not see it dry.
I had the great pleasure to be at Collected Works last week for the
launch of Anne Elvey's book Kin (Five Islands Press). I chose these
lovely fragments to share with you because Anne lives more or less
just around the corner from me and I know the places she is writing
about. And that is the cherry on top of the chopped nuts and cream
on top of the banana split!